


the only one (worth capturing on my kodachrome)

by niuniujiaojiao



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Coming Out, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Vilde Hellerud Lien, SKAM Secret Santa, Swearing, background Chris/Sana and Noora/Mari, no one is straight, some Vilde/Magnus before they figure stuff out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niuniujiaojiao/pseuds/niuniujiaojiao
Summary: Vilde is born with the name "Magnus Fossbakken" on her wrist. Then, she meets Eva."There’s a certain tightening in your chest you feel, once in a while, that you’ve labelled “jealousy.” It's happened before with pretty girls, girls with sparkling personalities or bubbly laughs or sweet-smelling hair, for years now. You'd felt that way for Sana, Ingrid, too many celebrities to count, even your Grade Ten math teacher. You don’t know how to make it stop."





	the only one (worth capturing on my kodachrome)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MediocreSalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediocreSalad/gifts).



> (Warning for a brief scene where a drunk Vilde agrees to sex with William. Nothing explicit is shown, but it's under category #FAF0E6 linen if you want to avoid it.)
> 
> Merry (late) Christmas to my Secret Santa giftee!  
> Thanks go to the lovely [cynical_optimist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical_optimist/pseuds/cynical_optimist) for helping me beta this, and to the folks at Skam Secret Santa (including the aforementioned lovely person) for putting this together!  
> Title is from Brittain Ashford's "So Patiently."

#FFFFFF white

An excerpt from _A Beginner’s Guide to Soulmates_ :

“A soulmate or Markmate is defined as a person who will play an important, positive role in one’s life during the time one's Mark remains on one’s wrist. Soulmates need not be mutual, but the most successful soulmate relationships tend to be. Most people’s first soulmates, if they have any, are their parents; occasionally, an aunt or a grandfather; or in some cases, an early playmate. A little over 90% of infants born with soulmates meet them within two years of the Mark’s appearance. 8% meet them within the first six, and 1.7% meet them within the first twelve, a period in which the average person’s soulmate has already changed twice. There has been only one recorded instance where a Mark-bearer did not meet her soulmate in her lifetime. In all other known cases, the universe has always prevailed to bring the pair or group together.”

 

#FFDD0 cream

You are born on the 13th of July, 1999, with the words “Magnus Fossbakken” written on your right wrist. Your parents don’t know any Fossbakkens, but they choose not to worry just yet.

 

#D8BFD8 thistle

You cry the night of your sixth birthday, your legs aching from walking around Oslo for hours in the hopes of running into a boy with your name in shaky cursive on his wrist. Your mamma pats your hair consolingly and whispers, “one day, Vilde, one day,” until you drift off to sleep.

 

#B0E0E6 powder blue

On the first day of Grade One, you are looking around for an empty chair when your eyes catch on a short brunette waving furiously at you.

“Hello,” you say shyly as you take a seat, “I’m Vilde.”

“Chris,” she replies, grinning, and, “I like your headband,” and you smile back.

 

#FF7F50 coral

On your twelfth birthday, you stay home (alone; Chris leaves early to spend time with Sana, her wristband proudly off for the first time in years), watch _Romeo + Juliet_ , doodle hearts over your arms, and decide that if you’ve waited so long for him, this Magnus must be very special, someone you could kill yourself to be with.

 

#FFE4E1 misty rose

“Sorry, Sana couldn’t make it!” Chris calls as she pushes open the door with her hip, wrapped package in hand. “Jamilla promised to show her some of her chemistry notes so she’ll be ready once school starts, but happy sixteenth, and- oh! Also! How cool will it be that we’ll all be together this year?”

“Very cool.” You haven’t spent much time with Sana, nor are you particularly close to her, but you _have_ been doing some research lately to make sure you don’t say any more Islamophobic things to her. It’s kind of ridiculous, really, that someone whose best friend converted to Islam three years ago is still so ignorant.

At least you know now that you shouldn’t offer Chris any of the wine you’ve poured into your own glass. And Chris knows that nothing she halfheartedly tells you about liver disease and brain function is going to stop you from finishing the bottle.

 

#00FF7F spring green

On your first day at Nissen, you check your makeup every few minutes and linger in the hallways, trying to catch glimpses of the wrists of everyone passing you by. Magnus Fossbakken is nowhere to be found.

 

#A52A2A brown

Chris sighs. “Have you tried-”

“No.” Romeo and Juliet never used a soulmate database to find each other. You shouldn't have to either.

As if reading your mind, Chris mutters under her breath, “Romeo and Juliet also _died_ ,” but you decide not to respond.

 

#708090 slate

Tiles and mirrors are comforting to you—the repeating pattern so neat and predictable, and your tear-stained reflection a tragic apparition you can distance from yourself. You watch your mascara begin to run and wonder if you should switch to a waterproof brand.

It’s not like you needed to be on the Pepsi-Max bus anyway, you tell yourself. In fact, if they’ve let you go, you can make your own bus now, one with Chris, and Sana too, you suppose, and—

The door opens.

 

#FFDAB9 peach puff

There’s a certain tightening in your chest you feel, once in a while, that you’ve labelled “jealousy.” It's happened before with pretty girls, girls with sparkling personalities or bubbly laughs or sweet-smelling hair, for years now. You'd felt that way for Sana, Ingrid, too many celebrities to count, even your Grade Ten math teacher. You don’t know how to make it stop.

 

#DC143C crimson

You can’t stop thinking about the girl you met in the bathroom yesterday night. She was beautiful, her chestnut hair long and flowing, her lips pink and full, and her neckline just low enough to… and there’s that tight feeling again. Her smoky eyeshadow, especially, made her look confident and alluring.

And she had flashed you a red-lipped smile, warm and genuine, before she had gone to fetch Chris. It was kind, that smile. You want very badly to see it again.

 

#DAA520 goldenrod

Your mother loses her latest job a few days later. You find the gift receipt for the dress Chris bought you for your birthday, fold the untouched garment up, and make your way to the mall.

 

#FFA500 orange

You and Chris are walking out of history when you spot a wave of chestnut hair above a brightly-colored scarf.

“Hi!” you exclaim, far too loudly, and then you’re not sure what you say—something about russ buses, you think, and Chris makes a joke about cults, but it doesn’t really matter because the girl is smiling and nodding at you, and somehow, she looks even better _without_ the eyeshadow.

 

#0000FF blue

Her name is Eva. Eva Kviig Mohn. And she wears a wristband to cover her Mark, but that’s not hiding anything when the boy sitting behind her has her name displayed proudly on his wrist.

 

#6B8E23 olive drab

“Just think about it as practice for Magnus,” Sana urges, as your eyes hover over William Magnusson’s Instagram profile.

“Or just do it for the bus,” Chris suggests. “You could even call it empowering.”

You can almost hear Noora’s eyes roll, but god, you’ve really backed yourself into a corner here, haven’t you? Eva has a boyfriend (of course she does of _course_ she does), Noora is a lesbian and refuses to “degrade herself like this,” and Chris and Sana couldn’t act like they weren’t in love for all the popularity in the world. Which leaves you.

“Fine.” You’ve read a few articles that say that saving yourself for your soulmate is an outdated concept anyway, and yesterday, you heard two girls in the bathroom calling William the “coolest, hottest guy at Nissen.” If they think so, you can too. Because girls like you, girls with boys’ names on their wrists, are supposed to like boys.

He asks you to send nudes less than ten messages in, and the way the girls react (mostly by shouting variants of “fuckboy!” and “god, I knew he looked like a rat for a reason” at your phone) makes it a little easier to grit your teeth and type out, “you’ll have to wait to see the real thing ;).” And just like that, you’ve all been invited to party with the Penetrators.

 

#F8F8FF ghost white

Your mother’s eyes were exhausted on the day your father left and didn’t come back. (You think she wasn’t surprised enough to cry.)

“That’s just what men are like,” she’d whispered as she pulled you close. “But Vilde, you’ll have Magnus. It’ll be different for you, you’ll see.”

 

#000080 navy

“I’ve decided to have sex with William.”

“You called me this late to tell me _that_?” Eva's voice is more amused than upset, so you forgo defending yourself and simply say, “yes.”

“Are you sure you want to fuck him before you’ve even had a proper conversation? He seems like a complete dickwad. I mean, if this is just for the bus-”

“No, no, I want to,” you insist. You’ve made a list of pros and cons; you _know_ this is the right choice. “I want to get my first time over with so I know what to do with Magnus. I know William's not going to talk to me afterwards, so there's no risk in having to break it off with him when I meet Magnus; he’s experienced, so he should be good at it; and-”

“You’ve really thought this through.”

“Yes, of course I have.”

“Well, then, congratulations?”

You sigh. “But I'm also nervous. Because, you know.” Eva hums. “And we're seeing him tomorrow, and I know he's going to want to... Eva…  if you… if you don't mind… what was your first time like?”

Eva laughs then, the sound bright and lovely. “A mess,” she admits, “but fun. Neither of us knew what we were doing. She-”

“ _She_?” Your heart is suddenly beating far too quickly.

Eva's voice immediately turns defensive. “Yeees… Is it because I'm with Jonas now? I mean, you know about bisexuality, right? You're friends with Sana and Chris, and they literally wore matching pan pride hijabs to school just yesterday, so I assumed-”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you stammer, “that's not what I meant… I just… I was surprised. I'm sorry. Please continue.”

“No, that was pretty much it. Awkward but fun. Just remember to use protection and relax.”

Something about your silence must clue Eva in, because she adds hesitantly, “Vilde… if this is really what you want, then… it'll be fine. Trust me.”

You do. Trust her, that is.

 

#00FF00 lime

Eva's Instagram is loud in a way that yours is not, the colors and smiles brighter than you could ever make them. You laugh at the caption of a months-old selfie and the rainbow spilling out of Eva's tongue.

There are pictures of Eva's boyfriend there too, but you don't spend much time on those.

 

#FAF0E6 linen

William presses you against a wall, and you’re drunk enough to let him. His arms are caging you in, making it difficult to breathe. There is nothing special about it, just uncomfortable warmth and pressure and a lack of oxygen—but then, it’s not his name on your wrist. You kiss back, copying the movements you saw in the last twenty movies you watched. That wet lip-smacking sound is even more awkward up close.

Barely a few seconds pass before his hands begin to snake their way up your shirt. He pulls back for a second, eyes uncomfortably sharp and clear, asks, “Do you-” and you swallow around the disgust in your throat and nod _._

 _For Magnus_ , you think, as the bedroom door slams behind you, but when you try to imagine your soulmate, all you see in your mind is Eva's face.

 

#DDA0DD plum

You walk past the living room couch—your hair still a little mussed, your mouth still sour with the taste of vomit—and then someone whispers, “ _Slut_.”

Chaos. Sana upends the nearest glass of red wine on Sara’s shirt, and the five of you rush out the door with Sara’s outraged cry ringing out behind you.

“Let’s never come to one of these things again,” Noora declares, after all of you have either hi-fived, hugged, or thanked your hero. “Sana?”

“Agreed. Popularity isn’t worth spending time with these fuckboys. Or those girls, for that matter.”

Eva gives an emphatic nod. “Even alcohol wasn't enough to make this party bearable. I’m pretty sure Vilde was the only one who enjoyed herself here. Before _that_ , at least.”

Right. You told everyone you orgasmed twice.

“I’m way too tired to walk home right now,” Chris groans. “Can’t we steal a car and Google how to drive on the way?”

“At least you’re only like a ten minute’s walk; my house is an _hour_ away,” Eva gripes.

You frown. “Can’t you get somebody to pick you up?”

“Nope, my mom’s on a business trip.”

“Wait!” Chris brightens. “How about we all just sleep over at mine tonight? I have enough room, and my dads won’t mind.”

In the midst of the ensuing celebrations, you think to yourself that, despite William, this is the closest you’ve felt to not being alone in a long time.

 _Just imagine what it’ll be like when Magnus is here too_.

 

#008000 green

Chris and Sana hoverboard into school on Monday morning holding hands, and you and Eva exchange looks.

“They’re really disgustingly adorable, aren’t they?” Eva sighs.

“Definitely,” you say, and feel your chest twinge.

 

#FFFAFA snow

You are lying on Eva’s bed, peering up at the ceiling, when you ask, “What's it like to be dating your soulmate?”

Eva looks at you strangely in the dark, then turns her lamp on.

“Ow, _what_ -” the sudden brightness burns into your eyes, but she doesn’t make a sound, just unclasps her wristband and holds her arm up to your face. The skin there is blank, marked only by freckles.

“I wouldn't know.”

 _Oh,_ you think. _Oh._

 

#FF69B4 hot pink

Noora puts herself in charge of music for “fuckboy-free Friday: Kollektivet edition” despite Eskild’s protests (“you’re my soulmate; you have to do what I want!” “well, then, you also have to do what Linn and I want, and Linn wants me on music, _right_ , Linn?”), and you soon discover that the only genre her songs seem to fall in is “lesbian.” No one else seems to mind, and you don’t either, not really.

The previous song (“Girls” by Beatrice Eli, Chris informs you) ends, and a new one with a steady drumbeat comes on. Not one second passes before Eva screams, “this is a gay anthem!” and starts singing along, loud and completely out of tune. It’s the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen.

“Vilde, come on!” she cries, grabbing both of your hands and failing miserably to spin you around.

“I don’t know the wor-”

“Just dance with me!”

_Here comes the breath, before we get-_

_A little bit closer._

_Here comes the rush, before we touch—_

_Come a little closer!_

So you do. The music is loud, sinking into your every pore, but you swear that the distinct, pounding rhythm you can hear over the song is the thumping of your own heart. It feels wild and freeing, like the world around you is in vibrant color, like you can breathe again. And Eva’s eyes are bright and sparkling and she’s practically shouting the lyrics in your face, and all you can feel is warm her hands are, how hard you’re smiling.

(You don’t think about Magnus once.)

 

#4B0082 indigo

“Jonas said it doesn’t matter to him what my Mark is or isn’t, that he doesn’t care about any of that soulmate bullshit—his words, not mine—but I can tell it bothers him. And sometimes, the way he acts… it’s almost like he’s trying to make me feel guilty about it? Like, last week, I ditched him to go to that awful Penetrators party, and he asked me—as a joke, but still—if it’s because I didn’t want to spend time with a sad boy with an unrequited soulmate, and he _knows_ I hate it when he brings that up—no, it’s okay, Vilde; I chose to tell you; it’s not the same thing—and it’s… _ugh_. And the thing is, Vilde, he’s so much better than me. He’s smart, and he gets good grades, and he likes having debates about capitalism, and he’s a good skateboarder and kisser, and most of the time, his jokes _are_ pretty funny, and I don’t know why he got stuck with _me_ of all people, and the thing is, I… I care for him; I know that, of course I do, but… he’s always spending time with his friends, but he gets jealous whenever I spend time with you guys, and he makes fun of my grades, and we never really _talk_ about anything, you know? And I don’t know how to fix that, or even if I should. What do I _do_ , Vilde?”

 

#FFFACD lemon chiffon

Sana is simultaneously fixing Chris’s lipstick and lecturing all of you on the importance of getting to party with Mari’s bus, Noora (who seems to be paying particular attention to her appearance tonight) is smoothing down her pixie cut for the tenth time, and you are applying makeup while sneaking glances at Eva, who is grappling with a new top.

“It fit fine at the store,” she grumbles, and—“Stupid women's clothing sizes, they never make any sense.”

“Just shop in the men's section,” Noora suggests. “The pants have actual pockets, too.”

“Good idea, very unhelpful right now.” Eva valiantly attempts to put her arm through a sleeve that turns out to be the neck of the shirt instead. “ _Ugh_ , this is useless! Does anyone have something less complicated I can borrow?”

“I have a sweater in my backpack,” you offer.

“You're a _lifesaver_ , Vilde.”

She slips the sweater over her head, and you bite your lip. Somehow, the sight of Eva in your clothes is enough to make your throat dry. It's a little tight on her, a more pastel color than she usually wears. She looks good, good enough for that tightness in your chest to come back. It’s because she looks better in the sweater than you do, you think, that has to be why. What a stupid reason to be jealous.

 

#FFF8DC cornsilk

You are leaned against Chris’s shoulder, idly watching Vine compilations that you’re too tired to process. She strokes your hair absentmindedly, and she’s warm, and it’s nice, but something doesn't feel quite right.

You stifle a yawn. “Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Why… why doesn’t it feel the same when Eva touches me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… this”—you try to make some kind of gesture, but your arm feels too heavy—“is really comfortable. You’re comfortable.”

“Thanks?”

“No, no, that’s not… it feels safe, here, with you. And it’s the same when Noora or Sana hugs me. But Eva doesn’t—she feels safe, too, but she also makes me feel all… tingly. I like”—you yawn—“I like hugging all of you. But it’s not the same. Why?”

Chris is half asleep by now, but she still manages to mumble, “No idea. Sounds gay, though.”

You laugh, but it takes you more than an hour after that to fall asleep. Chris snores gently next to you in the dark, and you think about her words, your mind and hands restless, tracing over the _Magnus Fossbakken Magnus Fossbakken Magnus Fossbakken_ on your wrist from memory.

 

#696969 dim gray

Eva flops down on Sana's bed next to you, sending a slight jolt through your spine. “I can't believe Noora decided to ditch this movie night to spend time with Mari. And this is the second time this week! We had to reschedule Spanish tutoring, too.”

“It's good for the bus, though, isn't it?” you say.

“And she looks happier,” Sana adds.

Eva hums. “That's true. But… you and Chris have each other, and Noora has Mari… So now, it's going to be just me and Vilde all by ourselves.”

“We're still your friends,” Chris protests, just as you ask, heart beating far too fast, “Wait, what about Jonas?”

“Oh,” Eva says, averting her gaze, and you can’t quite remember how to breathe, “we… uh…”—she bites her lip—“we broke up.”

Shock, sympathy, and something approaching… _joy_? “What… what happened?”

She sighs. “I just… I did what you said and talked to him, made it clear that I was serious about how much some of his words bothered me, and he- he didn't do anything wrong; actually, he did everything _right_ —promised to change, asked if we should communicate more, if we should work together to make it work—and I just realized that I… didn't want to put in the effort. Not for him.”

You nod, throat still tight.

“Are you okay?” Sana asks.

Eva offers all of you a lopsided smile. “Yeah, I think so. Better than okay, actually.”

 

#FF7518 pumpkin

After far too much deliberation over group Halloween costumes, the five of you decide to fuck it, borrow some suits from Chris’s dads, and all go as James Bond. It had seemed like a better idea at the time—you're pretty sure Noora had said that it was feminist in _some_ way, something about the way female characters were sidelined and sexualized in the original books and movies?—but you feel a little ridiculous as you fix your bowtie and gather your hair back into a low ponytail.

You step out of Chris's bathroom afterwards, and end up crashing into Eva on her way in.

“Sorry!” you exclaim, stumbling back, but Eva doesn't reply immediately, just stares at you.

“Vilde,” she says finally, sounding a little out of breath (which makes sense, of course, since you just _bumped into her_ ), “you look- you look… wow.”

“Oh!” you squeak, blushing more than you reasonably should. “Th- thank you!”

You feel much less ridiculous the rest of the night.

 

#006400 dark green

Later, on Mari's porch, after far too many glasses of wine—

“Eva?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when I told you that William… that I liked... being with him?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn't.”

 

#191970 midnight blue

The night air is cold, and you really regret not bringing a jacket.

“We could get arrested for this, you know.”

“It'd be worth it though,” Eva replies, and you can see her grin even in the dark. “Don't worry; I'll take the fall for it if he reports it,” she adds. “Tell them that I was just so lovesick and jealous that this rat-man had slept with so many other girls that I just _had_ to get him back.”

You laugh at that, a sharp huff of air that feels like both pain and relief. She squeezes your hand.

“Ready?”

The knife makes quick work of his tires, and the eggs work beautifully too (“get the yolk smeared everywhere you can; the acid eats through the paint”), and afterwards, you sprint away as fast as you can, dragging Eva behind you, laughing hysterically into the night air.

 

#B22222 firebrick

“So,” you gasp, still giddy with your revenge, “this is where I live.” The brick wall of your co-op answers with silence, and you can’t tell what Eva’s thinking. For the first time that night, you feel a spark of fear.

“I…” you falter. “I only have one bed. If you’d rather have Eskild drive you ho-”

“No, no,” she reassures you, “this is fine.”

You step inside and flick the light switch on. Eva’s expression is calm, undergoes no changes as she takes in your cluttered kitchen and the rest of your cramped apartment. In fact, she seems distracted, like she’s steeling herself to do something difficult.

She follows you to your bed and sits down, toeing her shoes off when you do. Then, she takes a breath and turns toward you.

 

#808080 gray

“Vilde,” she says, face unreadable and eyes not quite meeting yours, “I found Magnus.”

 

#FFC0CB pink

Magnus has blonde hair. That's the first thing you think when you see him. You'd always imagined him with dark hair—something exciting, something different from yours—though recently, chestnut has also been a strong contender. You suppose it makes sense, though. He's supposed to be _you_ , in a way.

Magnus has blonde hair and gray eyes (those, at least, you imagined) and acne scars on his cheeks. He seems nice enough, a little ignorant, and his jaw always hangs slightly open no matter what he's doing. There is a sloppiness about his movements, a kind of uncomfortable ease that you find off-putting. His voice is eager and sincere. He ends sentences with exclamation points or trails off into nothing. He is the laughingstock of his friend group. At first glance, at least, he is completely commonplace, unexciting, bland. Nothing new, nothing life-changing, nothing special. Nothing like Romeo Montague. Your soulmate.

You wonder what that says about you.

 

#F5F5F5 white smoke

“What is he like?” Your mother's eyes are more awake than you've ever seen them before, and you can't, won't, disappoint her.

“He's _perfect_ ,” you reply, and she looks so happy for you that you almost don't feel guilty.

 

#4682B4 steel blue

He’s not William, though. He listens carefully when you speak, and his smiles come easily and without expectation. You look at him and you don’t want to kiss him or hold his hand, but he’s kind and he’s not William. That’s the best you’re going to get.

 

#0000CD medium blue

You watch Eva fall asleep, several feelings you don't know how to name churning in your stomach. She's adorable like this, her shoulders relaxed, her breathing peaceful, her face smushed and drooling a little against the pillow. You feel fondness, and a bit of amusement, and an inexplicable need to _touch_.

As you drift off to sleep, you think, _I wish I could have this every night_.

 _Sounds gay_ , Chris’s voice answers, and you're too tired to protest.

 

#4169E1 royal blue

There is an awkward silence after the waiter takes your orders, and you scramble for the list of Things to Ask on a First Date that you have stored somewhere in your brain.

“So, what’s your family like?”

Magnus shrugs. “Pretty great. My parents are soulmates. My dad’s pretty quiet, but he can be funny. He cares a lot about my education, and he’s a good cook. My mom… she’s amazing. She’s hilarious, and she loves me and my dad a lot, and she’s ridiculously smart, too. Also… she’s bipolar. It’s kind of difficult to talk to her when she’s in a manic or depressive mood, but we work through it. I really admire her, you know?” He gives you a small smile, and you return it as best you can. “What about you?”

Well, no matter how you feel, he’s your soulmate, so you might as well tell him everything. About your parents’ fights, your father leaving, your mother’s illness, how you have to be in charge of the bills and her medication, how sometimes you resent her for it, how you still feel guilty about borrowing money from Chris to pay the rent even though she gives it willingly. It’s nice, being able to tell your life story to someone who isn’t embedded in it yet, who looks at you with sympathy but no judgment and just lets you speak.

“That sucks,” is the only thing he says at the end, and you agree wholeheartedly. He smiles again, a bit awkwardly, and you feel a kind of warmth in your chest that you tell yourself must be love, lust, everything you’re meant to feel for this boy. But then the waiter comes back with a plate for Magnus and one for “his lovely girlfriend,” and the feeling dissipates immediately into ice cold.

 

#F5F5DC beige

“Does he make you happy?”

You pause a second too long before nodding, and Eva’s return smile feels too tight, too forced. _Still beautiful, though_ , something inside of you whispers, but you bat the thought away.

“That’s good,” she says. “You deserve to be happy, Vilde.”

 

#8B0000 dark red

Magnus’s room is colorful, but not in the way Eva’s Instagram is. There are more primary colors, posters in bold text, a mess of papers on the desk.

“Pretty cool, right?” he says, grinning in a way Eva doesn’t, and your skin itches and your lips are dry and you just can’t take the suspense anymore.

“Are we here for sex?” The question comes out as a rush, a plea, an accusation. He blinks at you a few times.

“Do you… is that what you want?”

“I… Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

He frowns, then closes the door and sits down on the bed. “Okay. How do you want to start, then?”

Not the most romantic of lines. And it’s the afternoon, not nighttime, and the two of you aren’t in a swimming pool, and you’re wearing jeans instead of angel wings, but he _is_ your soulmate.

“Let’s just… Kiss me?”

He leans in, and you stay still, unsure of where to put your hands. Unlike William, he doesn’t try to thrust his tongue in immediately, or do much at all, really. It’s warm, but not stiflingly so, and his lips are soft enough, though his breath isn’t the most pleasant. All in all, it’s not awful. It mostly feels like nothing at all.

He pulls away after a few seconds. You make an effort to hide your disappointment, but he winces anyway.

“Was it that bad? Because-”

“No! It was… it was fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“-it’s just that I’ve never actually… done any of this before, so it would make sense if-”

“No, I promise, it was- Wait. _What_?”

He blinks at you a few times, a blush creeping over his face. “I… I'm a virgin. I hope that doesn't bother-”

He startles at your laugh, but before he gets even more embarrassed, you gasp out, “No, no, it’s not- I’m not laughing at you, it’s…”—more laughter—“I thought… I thought that when I met you, you’d be really experienced, and I was scared that I wouldn’t measure up, so I went and I- oh, god, I slept with that fuckboy, William Magnusson!”

“ _William_? Wait, you mean that rich ‘97 asshole who got his car egged a week ago?”

“Wait, wait, did he”—another bout of hysteria bubbles up in your throat—”How did you know about that?”

“I saw him take his car to the auto repair shop last- Wait. Wait.” He peers at you, an incredulous look forming on his face. “Are… How do _you_ know about it?” You still can't quite form words; you’re too busy wheezing, and his eyes widen. “Was that _you_?”

You nod, nearly choking on your giggles, and he hi-fives you immediately.

 

#800000 maroon

“William's car is so fucking cheesy; it honestly looked better after you egged it.”

“How much do you think he _spends_ on making all his custom Penetrators sweatshirts?”

“He's fucking rich anyway, it doesn't matter.”

“Do you know, I heard that he flies down to London every month, just to do his hair?”

“I heard he bribed some tattoo parlor to ink over his Mark so he could get more girls to sleep with him.”

“Does his Mark say 'being an asshole’?”

“His soulmate is obviously his car, Vilde.”

“His hair.”

“His rich-ass dad.”

“A trashcan.”

“No, wait!” Magnus nearly jumps up in his excitement. “ _Himself_!”

It’s not even that funny, but you start laughing again, and much to your relief(?), he doesn't try to kiss you the rest of that day.

 

#C0C0C0 silver

“You guys!” Eva rushes across the cafeteria, pink-faced and clutching several sheets of paper in her hand. “Look! I got a 4 on my history essay!”

There are exclamations and chair legs scraping hurriedly against the floor as all of you hasten to your feet to congratulate her. Eva reaches you first, and you’re not sure what to say because you _know_ how important this is to her, how hard she’s worked for this, how much she cares, so you just grip both of her hands and smile at her so hard your cheeks hurt. The papers flutter to the ground as soon as your hands meet, but she doesn’t seem to care because she is beaming back at you, a little dazed, still bouncing up and down on her feet, and gripping back, and you want to be closer to her, close enough that she can _feel_ how proud you are of her from the beating of your heart against her skin, but you can’t, you can’t, and all you can do is stay here, stone-still and overwhelmed and full of almost-comprehensible longing.

 

#9400D3 dark violet

“Sounds gay, though,” Chris’s voice mumbles in your head, over and over again, at random intervals throughout the day, and you’ve stopped trying to make it go away.

 

#EEE8AA pale goldenrod

You see your sweater as soon as Eva pushes open her bedroom door. It’s hung haphazardly over a chair, its pale yellow contrasting with the rest of her room.

“Oh!” she exclaims, as soon as she notices what you’re looking at, “I- I forgot to give this back to you, didn’t I?”

It must have been three weeks, at least. Three weeks of Eva doing homework at her desk, the soft fabric pressed against her back, or maybe draped over her shoulders when it got cold—and why do you feel so warm all of a sudden?”

Eva is still apologizing, stammering out something about how she meant to wash it and give it back but it must’ve slipped her mind, her cheeks far too pink for the situation.

You take it home and hesitate, before walking past the laundry basket and placing the sweater carefully on your nightstand.

 

#800080 purple

“Before I tell you this, just know that this doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re pretty, or that I don’t like _you_ … I just… I think I’ve known this for a while now but just kept trying to convince myself that I was making things up, but I’ve done a lot of Googling recently, and... I’m pretty sure I’m asexual.”

Magnus peers at you anxiously. You feel your mouth open, but no sound comes out.

“Th-that’s wonderful! I mean- I’m really glad you’ve figured yourself out! Of course I don’t see it as an insult to me! That’s just- who you are, and of course I support you, and I-” You break off your babbling, a little red-faced, but it’s fine. It all makes sense now, your reluctance to hook up with him, your lack of response to his kisses. Your subconscious must’ve sensed that _he_ didn’t want it. It’s not because of you. Everything makes perfect sense now.

 

#663399 Rebecca purple

Only, it doesn’t.

 

#40E0D0 turquoise

Chris is in the kitchen, helping one of her dads with dinner, when you step into the room.

She turns to you and waves, surprised but pleased. “I thought you were spending all your free time with Magnus?”

 _And Eva,_ you almost reply, but don’t.

“Can we talk?” you ask instead. “Alone?”

She closes her bedroom door firmly and joins you on her couch. “What’s up?”

“You and Sana don’t… you don’t have sex, right?”

She gives you a bemused look. “Yeah, we’re waiting for marriage. Why?”

“Then, how do you… how do you tell the difference between a romantic relationship without sex and a close friendship?”

“I mean… I still think Sana’s gorgeous, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I guess what I mean is, how do you tell the difference between friendship and romance without… without attraction?”

Chris considers. “Well, I’m not the best person to ask, but you know, our relationship isn’t just us liking the other’s face. I like taking walks with her and telling her I love her and doing other ‘romantic’ things together, and when she calls me her girlfriend, it feels _right_. You know?”

You don’t know at all, but you nod anyway.

 

#8A2BE2 blue violet

Opening Google with shaky fingers, you type out, “am I a lesbian?”

 

#00008B dark blue

“Why haven’t I met any of your friends yet?”

You turn to him. His expression is open, and although there is a little hurt in his eyes, he appears calm enough. He’s not angry, at least.

“Why do you ask?”

He sighs, hands fiddling with your bedsheets. “It’s just… you seem really close to all of them, and I’d like to know what they’re like. But I never see you at school or with one of them, and it kind of seems like you’re avoiding us meeting. It’s fine if you don’t want to… it’s just- am I doing anything wrong?”

You swallow, staring fixedly at the J Hus poster hung on the wall opposite from Magnus. You could lie, tell him that you don’t want to parade him in front of Eva because she’ll feel bad about not having a soulmate, or that no, he must be mistaken, you’re not avoiding him at all, and why would he even think that? but he deserves better than that. But you also don’t know how to tell him the truth.

How are you supposed to explain the nauseous feeling you get every time you imagine introducing Magnus as your _boyfriend_ to the girls, the label scraping against your throat on the way up? If they ever really talked to him… you can imagine the barely concealed scoff from Sana, the awkward grimace from Chris, Noora’s wrinkled nose, and Eva… you don’t know how Eva will react. They will crowd around you afterwards, and ask you why, why you are with _him_ , and you will have nothing to defend yourself with besides “he’s nice” and “he’s my soulmate.” And then they will tell you to ignore that, ask you if you still would’ve chosen him if “Magnus Fossbakken” wasn’t engraved into your wrist, and you won’t be able to say yes. He might be an acquaintance, maybe even a close friend, but nothing else.

“You’re not doing anything wrong!” You smile then, making sure to show your teeth. “I just like being alone with you.”

“I like that too, Vilde.”

He’s still frowning.

 

#FFF0F5 lavender blush

Noora picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

You take a deep breath. “Noora, how… how did you know you were gay?”

There is silence on the other end of the line.

“Oh,” she says finally, “that makes a _lot_ of sense.”

 

#000000 black

Noora and Mari are slow-dancing to a song you didn’t know it was possible to slow-dance to, Eva and Chris are off chatting with some girls whose faces you vaguely recall from the Nissen hallways, which leaves you and Sana on the couch, Sana scrolling through Instagram and you nursing a glass of white wine, looking intently to the left of where Eva’s standing.

“You’re allowed to look at her, you know.”

You jump, looking quickly around to see if anyone else was close enough to hear, but the other guests seem sufficiently engaged. “I wasn’t- Did Noora say something to you?”

“Vilde.” She gives you an exasperated look. “Noora didn’t say anything. You were obvious enough on your own. Remember that party at Eskild’s?”

You close your mouth.

When she continues, her voice is calculatedly casual.

“I didn’t think you’d actually start dating Magnus when you met him. The way you look at Eva… I thought even you would figure it out.”

“Magnus is… my soulmate! Of course I’d date him!”

She shrugs. “Platonic soulmates are extremely common.”

“Not between a girl and a guy, though!”

“I’m Elias’s-”

“You’re siblings; that’s different-”

“Jonas and Eva are friends now-”

“They dated first, though!”

“Noora and Linn with Eskild.”

“They’re all gay!”

“What makes you think you’re not?”

“Because- because… Magnus!”

“You’re saying you have to be romantically attracted to your soulmate because you’re romantically attracted to men, and you’re romantically attracted to men because your soulmate is a guy? Sounds like circular reasoning to me.”

“But I’m _not_ \- I’m not… _like_ that.”

“Why not?”

You bite your lip, Sana sighs, and you amend your statement.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to be… like that. How to see myself that way.”

She turns back to her phone, an air of finality in her voice. “Then maybe you should start.”

 

#FFEBCD blanched almond

Magnus comes over for dinner. He is polite, kind, and a little awkward, and your mother smiles at him throughout the entire thing. You learn that you’re his fourth soulmate, following his mom, his primary school best friend, and his other best friend in Grade Eight. When your mom tells him about your one-soulmate situation, he makes a sympathetic noise and then adds with a small laugh, “Wow, I really hope I didn’t disappoint her.” He leaves after depositing a peck on your cheek that you’re not sure either of you wanted and gets into his dad’s car.

“He seems like a lovely boy,” your mom comments, her eyes fixed on the door. “But you’re not in love with him, are you?”

Protestations rise up in your throat, but you clench your fists and exhale them away.

“No, not really.”

 

#EE82EE violet

You spend an entire weekend scouring the links Sana has sent you with one of Chris’s many, many queer Spotify playlists on in the background. You start crying at one point; you’re not sure why or when—the hours keep blurring together. You read the article on compulsory heterosexuality once, then twice, then about five more times after that. Then, you call Noora again.

 

#D2691E chocolate

Eva’s walking you home today. She says it’s the same route she needs to take to get to a classmate’s house for a science project, so she might as well. The two of you are walking close enough for your fingers to brush with each step, but you don’t move away, and neither does she.

When you reach the door, you are suddenly loath to let her go. “D-do you want to come in?” you stammer. “I can… I can make you some tea?”

She assents, and you push open the door. Magnus is sitting there on your couch. You and Eva take him in with startled looks.

“Hi Magnus,” Eva says finally, then turns to you and asks, “Do you want me to go?”

“No, it’s fine, just let me… the tea…”

Magnus stands up. “Can I help?”

“Don’t- don’t worry about it. Did you want a cup?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Eva follows you to the kitchen. There is still palpable tension in the air. You avoid eye contact and fumble your way through the motions, almost dropping your teapot twice. Magnus is still on the couch, but you’re pretty sure he can see the both of you perfectly well. You consider saying something to Eva to break the silence, but since apparently pretty much everyone decided you had feelings for her before you even suspected, for all you know, the tone of your voice would give you away to Magnus immediately. Or perhaps not. He isn’t the most perceptive person, after all.

Maybe it’d be easier if he was.

You manage to get through the rest of tea-making without scalding yourself or dying of embarrassment, and Eva bids you an awkward goodbye with a plastic cup in her hand. You watch her go with mixed feelings of relief and dread.

The door shuts. Magnus turns to you, a bemused look on his face.

“What was _that_ about?”

 

#00FFFF aqua

“I’m a lesbian,” you tell the fog on your shower glass, voice barely distinguishable over the sound of the faucet. You can't see the mirror through it, but you're pretty sure you're smiling.

 

#FF00FF fuchsia

He has questions, most of which you don’t know how to answer. You tell him, “I’m still not sure about all of this” at least ten times throughout the conversation. A quarter through, he starts giggling uncontrollably, and, when prompted to explain himself, tells you that he’s actually been terrified the last two weeks that you were disappointed that he didn’t want to have sex with you, and that actually, the whole reason he came here today in the first place was to tell you that he’d rather be friends anyway. About halfway through, you collapse into laughter at the realization that, in the less-than-two-months that you’ve known each other, there have already been two coming-out speeches. The two of you part with a “my dad just texted; he wants me home for dinner” and a mutual agreement to continue on as “soulmates, emphasis on ‘mates.’” You wave goodbye to Magnus, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

 

#87CEEB sky blue

You tell the girls about your not-really-a-breakup through the group chat, just because it seems easiest. They all respond within a few minutes. Chris, Sana, and Noora all send various approving one-line texts. Eva sends nothing but a heart emoji. You look at it until your screen times out, harboring a small smile on your face that you’re not going to bother wiping off, no matter how sappy it looks.

 

#FFFF00 yellow

The next time all of you are together, the girls congratulate you repeatedly on joining The Queers™.

“Could you please not tell anyone else, though?” you ask, and they immediately reassure you that they won't say a word. A few seconds pass in silence, and then Chris exclaims, “Okay, but can you believe we’re finally gayer than even _Mari’_ s bus now?” and just like that, everything is back to normal.

 

#D0F0C0 tea green

Eva’s science project goes on for another two weeks, and she walks you home and stops inside for a few minutes each day. When you ask her why, she ducks her head and says it’s because you have better taste in beverages than her mom does. You’re not sure Twinings counts as particularly tasteful, but you buy an extra box the next time you’re at Narvesen anyway.

 

#E6E6FA lavender

After lunch one day, Noora slips you a pin that matches the one on her backpack, a few horizontal stripes in varying shades of pink that you recognize from some of the sites Sana linked you to. The lesbian pride flag.

“Having a kind of symbol to hold onto… it’s helped me,” she admits. “You should have one too. Just in case you want it.”

You tuck it into your pocket. “Thank you.”

 

#ADFF2F green yellow

It's Sana’s turn to host fuckboy-free Friday, or, as she's decided to call it “celebratory event that would live up to its name more if my brother's dumb friends weren't in my house all the time.”

Eva's been dancing with the same curly-haired boy for three consecutive songs (not that you're counting), something you think you'd mind more if she wasn't shooting grins at you every few seconds, or whenever your eyes meet.

“So,” Sana says casually, and déjà vu begins to creep over your thoughts, “you and Eva.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course. You've just been looking up and blushing every few seconds for no reason.”

“I-”

“And Eva’s just been looking at you all night because she feels like it.”

Sana sighs and sets her cup of tea down. “Just do something about it already, before the rest of us lock you in a closet together or something, okay?”

“I’m not- I’m not going to do anything.”

“Fine. Closet it is.”

 

#FF6347 tomato

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Eva says, “how did you figure it out?”

You are about to give her a standard answer—research, the girls, lack of attraction to Magnus—when she adds, voice lilting up a little at the end, “Was there someone in particular, or…?” and now this is uncharted territory, something dangerous and unknown.

You wish you could muster up the courage to turn towards her right now, to see her more clearly. You wish you knew what she was thinking, what she wants your answer to be.

“Something like that,” you say, finally, and she doesn’t ask any more questions.

 

#228B22 forest green

“You know how I’m hosting a party next week?”

“Yes?”

“Did you want me to put some mistletoe up?”

“Mistletoe? Why?”

Chris looks at you like you’re missing something very obvious. It’s a look you’ve gotten a lot recently. “For you and Eva?”

“Not you too, Chris!”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Eva doesn’t-”

“Eva _does_ , Vilde. Trust me on this. Mistletoe or not?”

“... Not.” Chris opens her mouth to protest, but you continue. “Even if what you say _is_ true… I’d rather our first kiss not be because of a forced holiday tradition.”

She shrugs, turning back around. “That’s fair.”

 

#FFFAF0 floral white

Eva meets your mom on a Sunday, with you standing nervously by her side. You care about them liking each other more than you reasonably should, but luckily, they take to each other right away. Your mom pulls out your baby picture albums about ten minutes after her and Eva's first hello, and the two of them spend almost an hour cooing over photos of you in various mismatched outfits from flea markets. You feign indignation whenever Eva calls baby Vilde cute, and vow to exact revenge by finding her baby pictures the next time you’re at her house.

 

#DA70F6 orchid

You place the pride pin on your nightstand. You don’t think you’re ready to put it on a jacket or backpack yet, on display for everyone to see, but the sight of it _is_ comforting in some way.

 

#F5FFFA mint cream

You wake up before Eva does, your eyes bleary and blinking at your bathroom door. She is snoring, and the two of you have your backs facing each other, like usual. It would be so easy to turn over right now and blame it on sleep, just turn over so that you can see her and so that she will wake up with your warm breath on her neck. Nothing else.

You consider it for several long moments, eyes fighting to stay open the entire time, but before you come to a reasonable conclusion, you fall back asleep.

 

#FFD700 gold

The night before winter holiday begins passes by in a warm blur. The five of you, plus Magnus (who you like a lot better as a friend than a boyfriend), decorate ornaments, while everyone else sits in groups, chatting and nursing alcohol-free drinks. Eva is unusually quiet. At first, you thought it was because of Jonas, who’s practically sitting in the lap of another one of Magnus’s friends (Mahdi, you think, is his name?), laughing hysterically into the boy’s shoulder, but whenever Eva looks at them, her expression shows nothing but amusement. Then, a few minutes later, you check on her again and find her gazing right back at you. She flushes immediately, her eyes darting back down.

You think about the conversations you had with Chris on Tuesday and Sana on Friday, on their insistence that Eva feels the same way about you as you do for her, and about Halloween and the sweater and how you don’t recall anyone else having a science project this month, and now, Eva’s blush. Maybe you should just ask her. You don’t have to offer up any information of your own. Either she doesn’t like you, and you can go on as before, or she does, and well, that would be wonderful. It won’t ruin anything if you ask, will it? She’ll still talk to you the next day. You’ll still be friends. You should just _ask_.

But not right now, though, under this bright fluorescent light, surrounded by music and eyes and people. Later. Alone.

 

#FF0000 red

Of course, Eva has to beat you to it.

 

#FF00FF magenta

It’s far past midnight, and you’re exhausted. You turn on your lamp and flop down on the bed, Eva settling beside you, smelling like chocolate and eggnog. She doesn’t look at you, just sighs and runs a hand through her hair.

“You can- you can go to the bathroom and wash up, if you want to.”

“Mm.”

Silence, for a few seconds. Then, quietly—

“Did I ever tell you about how Jonas and I got together?”

 _What?_ “I… I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s not really about that; it’s… I kissed him first. But before that, he was really worried about fucking things up if I didn’t feel the same way, because, you know, I didn’t have his name on his wrist. And afterwards, he told me that he hadn’t made the first move because he was waiting for a sign—if the next song that played on the radio was ‘Take Me to Church,’ he would tell me how he felt. But it wasn’t.”

She looks away from you then, her eyes fixed steadily on the ground. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I promised myself that if you were wearing something pink today… I’d kiss you.”

 _Oh_ , you think, _oh_.

You fumble for your voice, find it trembling and ready. “And I’m wearing white.”

She still isn’t looking at you, but you can see her nod.

The lesbian pride pin Noora gave you is still on your nightstand, the plastic glinting a little in the lamplight. You sit up, reach for it, and the clack of metal against wood is enough for Eva to lift her head. She watches as you carefully unclasp the prong, thread it through your shirt, and then reattach it so that the pin rests right above your heart. Pink.

“And now?”

You can hear Eva’s breath catch, see her eyes widen. You’re not sure who leans in first, but then she is close, breath warm against your cheek, and then even closer, and then she is kissing you and kissing you and it feels incredible, like dancing in a kitchen or running through the streets at night or making tea for someone who makes you feel like you can breathe again, and nothing like William and nothing like Magnus because this is _Eva_ you’re kissing, _Eva_ with her chestnut hair and gray eyes and bright smile and even brighter laugh, and her warm hands that are pressed against your waist and cupping your cheek, and you want to cry, almost, cry until you’ve emptied yourself of denial and left only room for more _EvaEvaEva_ , but you also don’t want her to pull away, so you just kiss her more and more and laugh into her lips until you run out of air.

 

#F5DEB3 wheat

The smell of burning jolts you out of bed the next morning. You rush out of your room into the kitchen, and are greeted by the sight of Eva, with mussed hair and last night’s clothes still on, surrounded by mixing bowls and looking dismally at the charred lump on the stove.

“I was trying to make us breakfast,” she says, “I’m so sorry,” and you look at her, a smear of egg yolk on her cheek, and feel something warm bloom in your chest—a feeling you think you’re going to call “love.”

“You really can’t cook, can you,” you say, stepping closer.

“I can!” she insists, “your stove is just-”

And then you kiss her, because she is here and because you can and because it just feels _right_.


End file.
